WHAT is it about autumn that makes one wax sentimental? Calgary doesn’t have fantastic autumns, and with family in Virginia we know only too well that we’re missing much in the way the leaves turn colours. But that’s quite okay. I still yearn to see the leaves turning different colours, the way the air turns crisp but not too cold, and why at the beginning of fall, I bring out a plethora of silk autumn flowers.
They say that the best time of the day is seven p.m. They refer to it as “the remains of the day.” Most days after dinner as I do the dishes I have the unobstructed view of the sun setting down. The sun sets golden red, and for a moment time stops, it is a quarter past six. It is this time that I relish, and I take in the magic of this autumn moment.
I’ve always associated autumn with the scent of apples and cinnamon. And with Thanksgiving fast approaching, my days turn to thoughts on how to leave that lingering scent of apples and cinnamon in my home, and what eats to prepare for this special long weekend. The bird is now thawing in the fridge, and my daughter will serve her apple crisps. We have decided to have a Continental theme this year, and we have to confer with friends what to bring to the potluck.
There was a definite chill in the air as I prepared to leave the house to run some errands earlier in the afternoon. So I went back in to retrieve a trench coat. It’s still warm enough for one to wear sandals. I noted that the trees have shed their coat of leaves, and there is a wonderful bed of yellow and red leaves on the lawns.
It is now slanting to night. And I am lost for words. The magic of an autumnal day is past.